ive recovered from my small bout of heavy depression. or at least, it's gone back inside me.
i can deduce from this that whiskey makes me very, very sad. i like whiskey, it's a shame.
SO i paid this girl a visit yesterday, ive only slept with her a couple of times but we are very fond of each other as sexual partners. god knows why she likes me, but she is an absolute dream. she's canadian, with indian heritage (which you must understand is still a novelty for a white english male who spent the first few years of his sex life sleeping with white english females). She has quite a thick Canadian accent, when i have sex with her i feel like i'm in a porn film because of the way she sounds when she talks/moans.
I sent her a text message when I was on her street walking to her house, and her reply was the following, dictated directly from my phone:
"door's open, help yourself to beers in the fridge!... I wont be too much longer"
As I crack a can of delicious polish lager, she emerges from her bedroom (it's a one story flat) wearing an LBD and thigh high leather boots. She makes sure my beer is alright, hands me a cigar, and then sits me down and kneels in front of me. Needless to say I'm having a great time. After a while she tells me the boots aren't coming off so I need to rip her tights open if I want to fuck her. This goes on, and we get progressively filthier with each other. In between sex, she makes me chicken chorizo rice and mixes up Fidel Castros with a slice of lime coated in brown sugar on the side of the glass.This girl is classy.
I arrive home later that evening and tell one of my housemates about my day. And he says that some guys would literally kill for what Id just experienced, that it would be the happiest day of their lives.
For me it was just quite a nice day.
Just lucky I guess.
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